Give Me a Niche
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Christian and Leslie face the aftermath of Rogan's ruined experiment, while Michiko searches for a way to get through to her stubbornly resistant young daughter. Sixth in the "Niches" story arc
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _As of the post date, I have at least one more story in this arc planned; after that I'll be splitting my time between more conventional FI stories and transferring the non-FI elements to a manuscript that I hope will stand some chance of being published—going all the way back to my first FI story here. If you're a regular reader/reviewer, please send me a PM through this site if you'd like to help me hash things out, and I'll mention you somewhere in the final manuscript, even if it's just in my dedication page! Meantime, enjoy this latest..._

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><p>§ § § – October 29, 2008<p>

The same Wednesday that had started out so incongruously sunny on Fantasy Island was more appropriately cloudy and chilly in Lilla Jordsö. Bleary-eyed, Leslie gave the landscape and the skyline of the city of Sundborg little more than a desultory glance, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep—or better yet, go back in time and prevent Gabriella's death. Her stomach began roiling; by now the news of the queen's murder had become common knowledge around the world, and was causing enormous buzz because of the way Gabriella had died. Unfortunately, Rogan and Marina's experiment had had to be made public too, so Leslie had learned to avoid all news outlets as much as humanly possible. Christian, who had approved of that measure, had spent his online time monitoring the royal family's website, fielding about half again as many condolences on Gabriella's death as congratulations on his and Leslie's forthcoming baby.

Michiko had insisted on packing up Cat and accompanying Christian, Leslie, the triplets, and Gabriella's body to Lilla Jordsö; and she had also talked her stepson, recently crowned King Paolono, into providing use of a specially outfitted jet to transport the body and the grieving relatives without having to deal with commercial flights and the ever-nosy media. As the plane touched ground and immediately began to slow, she now stirred in the seat across from Leslie, blinking. Beside Leslie, Christian too began to regain consciousness, having been thrown forward by the jet's braking motion.

"Are we here?" he murmured sleepily, his accent thicker than usual, as if he had only barely remembered to speak English at all.

"Just landed," Leslie murmured, absently rubbing her stomach. "How are we ever going to get out of here and to the castle without being gaped at?"

Christian grunted and pushed himself up from his slightly slouched position, wincing when muscles protested. "Ach...I'm too old to sleep sitting up." He slipped his hand into Leslie's and curled his fingers around it. "This may never have happened before, my Rose, at least not quite in this way, but believe me, we'll be able to pull this off with the smallest possible intrusion into the process by outsiders."

"I hope so," Leslie mumbled pensively, still massaging her stomach, which was reacting to all the stress and had been ever since she'd awakened from her faint in the wake of Gabriella's death. "I don't want to know what the people here must think of me now."

Christian and Michiko looked at each other, and Michiko tipped her head aslant after a glance at her still-sleeping daughter. "Have you seen anything in all those news reports that've been flying around?"

"Very little," said Christian, "and if they mention Leslie, it's only in tandem with the rest of the family. I've seen no indication that anyone's placing blame on her."

"Leslie, you worry too much," Michiko told her best friend, gazing at her with some worry in her dark tilted eyes. "You really need to trust Christian."

"She's right, my Rose," Christian concurred with a brief little grin. He tipped aside long enough to kiss her cheek. "Once we stop taxiing, I guess you'd better get back there and wake up the children. We'll be going to a special gate where our longest limo will be waiting to take us and Briella back to the castle."

This process took about ten minutes; Michiko woke Cat while Leslie roused Karina, Susanna and Tobias, and they all gathered their carry-ons and waited to disembark. From one of the windows, Christian and Leslie both saw about half a dozen castle servants carefully shouldering Gabriella's body, which had first been wrapped in a shroud and then placed in a black body bag. Fortunately, the children seemed to be too sleepy to take much notice of what was happening around them, so that the body bag was loaded into the car with no fuss, and only a few tears from the late queen's aunt and uncle.

Another ten minutes later, the car was on the road across the capital city and on its way to the castle. Karina fell asleep in Leslie's lap, while Cat stared out the window at the passing buildings, clearly curious in spite of herself. Susanna followed Cat's lead, while Tobias pushed every button he could reach before Christian told him in low tones to stop before he did something dangerous, or at least potentially messy. At that point, he crawled into his father's lap and peered up at him. "Daddy, is Briella really gone forever?"

Christian closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, visibly controlling his knee-jerk reaction to this, before nodding solemnly as he gazed at his little son. "Yes, Tobias, I'm afraid she is. It was a terrible thing that happened to her, and we're all very s...sad." He had to swallow before he could finish saying the last word.

"You don't have to cry, Daddy," Susanna offered, raising herself onto her knees on the seat and resting both hands on her surprised father's shoulder. "Now Briella can see _farmor_ and they can watch us."

That caught Leslie's attention too, and she and Christian exchanged an astonished look before he turned to their daughter. "How do you know that, _lillan min?"_

" 'Cause I 'member when we got to see your mommy and daddy when me and Karina and Tobias were _little_-little. _Farmor_ said she got to see our cousin Ceci that died, and your big sister Martina, and everybody else she loved a long time ago." She turned to Leslie and added, "And she said she was gonna look for your mommy too."

"What in the world is she talking about?" Michiko asked, completely at sea.

"It's a long story," Leslie said softly. "I'll fill you in later, if Christian's okay with it." She turned back to Susanna. "You can remember that? But you were only two."

"I do 'member it. _Farmor_ let me sit in her lap and she called me Susi, 'cause we have the same name. I wish we could see her again, Daddy."

Christian lowered his head and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, before he could focus on her again. "I don't know how you remember that, Susanna Shannon, but you're right about everything you saw." He cleared his throat. "I wish we could see her too, _lillan min,_ but we can't." Once more he closed his eyes and turned his head aside, as if trying to hide his emotions from his children. Tobias cuddled up to him and Susanna smoothed his hair with one small hand, both trying to give comfort. Leslie's eyes filled with tears and she glanced at Michiko, who smiled, just as one of them fell.

The car stopped at last under the mossy portico of the castle, and everyone got out one by one, the triplets huddling beside their parents as if sensing the somber mood. When the luggage had been unloaded and placed inside, the car moved on toward the garages; from there Gabriella's body would be prepared to lie in state for the next three days.

The rest of the Enstad family began to file in from the living quarters in the castle's north wing; even the youngest children were solemn-faced, picking up on the sorrowful atmosphere. Everyone hugged one another hard.

The greetings were soft or altogether silent, but nothing else was said till Kristina appeared, being pushed in her wheelchair by her personal servant. The expression on her face froze Leslie: she looked far more bereft than she had after Arnulf's death, her eyes red from what had to have been constant weeping and her expression hopeless. When she saw Leslie, she stared for a moment while everyone waited as though frozen in a tableau; Leslie began to tremble where she stood, certain that of all the people who might censure her, it was Kristina who frightened her the most.

Then Kristina wordlessly stretched out her arms toward Leslie, and Leslie stumbled forward and returned the grieving mother's embrace, bursting into tears as she did so. The rest of the family gathered around, and Christian laid a hand on his wife's back, furiously blinking back his own tears.

After supper—which neither Christian nor Leslie had much appetite for—Michiko excused herself and took Cat away to the suite that had been prepared for them, while the adults gathered to go to the south-wing basement area where monarchs had been prepared to lie in state for centuries. No one had said very much all evening, leaving Leslie very ill at ease. She and Christian waited silently at the west entrance to the south wing, watching the family arriving in listless twos.

Gerhard and Liselotta were the first to actually approach; as parents of the new monarch—just shy of his seventh birthday—they were a little nervous, particularly Liselotta. "Does this mean we must move back into the castle?" she was asking Gerhard as they joined Christian and Leslie. Now that Leslie had a reasonable knowledge of _jordiska_, this was the language everyone used, though Leslie didn't always feel comfortable trying to speak in her husband's native tongue and was quieter than usual as a result.

"I don't know," Gerhard admitted and caught Christian's eye. "Do you?"

Christian shrugged, looking only barely interested in the question. "I don't have the official answer—your aunt Anna-Laura probably will know—but I don't see why you should, when it's yet another eleven years before Matti will even be able to take on the duties of a king."

"True," Gerhard mused, and Liselotta gave Christian a grateful smile.

Carl Johan emerged with Amalia from the corridor at that point and crossed the great entry, somehow looking his full fifty-eight years now that the burden of running the country as regent for his grandson had fallen on his shoulders. "Never," he said bleakly, staring at one of the walls, "never did I think for one moment that I would find myself in this position."

Leslie flinched and looked away, and the others noticed her movement; but before any of them could comment, Anna-Laura, Esbjörn, Roald and Adriana arrived all at once, and Gerhard put Liselotta's question to Anna-Laura. With the others' attention on this, Leslie took the chance to turn away and wrap her arms around her stomach, drifting a few paces aside from the group and wondering with deep dread why they hadn't seen Daniel and Anders, Gabriella's husband and three-year-old adopted son. _Daniel will blame me for Briella's death,_ she thought frantically, feeling hysteria creeping in but not quite able to beat it back. _I know he will. The first time he sees me, he'll hurl accusations at me. A grieving spouse isn't too likely to listen to reason—I ought to know! And what can I tell him? That I warned Briella and Margareta and Anna-Kristina against volunteering? What difference will that make to him? All he'll see is that I'm the one who told them about that damn trial!_

"Leslie, my Rose, come here," Christian said softly then, and she felt him turning her into his embrace. "We're about to go down to have our private viewing, before they move Briella's coffin into the great entry for the public lying-in." She let him gather her in against him, but couldn't look up, with one hand over her stomach and the other curled into a fist pressed hard against her mouth, as though she were damming herself up. She felt him slip two fingers under her chin and raise her head so that she was forced to look at him; his expression grew worried. "My darling, what's wrong?"

Her eyes filled and she could only shake her head helplessly; Christian wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. "All right, my Rose, all right. For now we'll let it lie, but we do need to go on down. Come on, I'm right here, and you don't need to say anything."

Just as the family was about to make the trip down, the sound of footsteps grew audible and a couple of voices murmured with surprise, "Daniel..." Leslie flinched again and squeezed her eyes closed, huddling against Christian.

"Are you all right for this?" she heard Carl Johan ask.

"I have to see her a final time," Daniel's voice responded in a wrecked-sounding rasp.

"Then we'd better go down," Amalia said, and Leslie let Christian guide her along, unable to do more than watch her own feet moving along the stone floor. It seemed an eternity before they had filed into the chilled room where Gabriella lay in the prepared coffin as though sleeping in an ornate bed. It was all Leslie could do to look at the young queen's face; despite the makeup, Gabriella looked unnaturally pale. She was still wrapped in the white shroud; the _jordisk_ tradition of being buried in this, rather than clothing, was strongest within the royal family, which had instigated it somewhere in the first two or three generations because the struggling people of the new country couldn't afford to bury their dead in clothing when it was needed by the living. She looked almost like a mummy, with only her face showing and some of her caramel-colored hair arranged around it like a frame. Her hands also showed, folded neatly over her chest—_just about where that monster shot her,_ Leslie realized, and had to hide her face in her hands to keep her misery from overwhelming her. Christian pulled her in close to him again; she could feel him trembling from deep inside, just as he had when Arnulf died.

They heard someone break down into sobs: Daniel, Leslie realized when he choked out, "Briella, my orchid..." and then gave in to his grief. For some reason Leslie couldn't let hers out. In her mind she could hear Roarke's voice admonishing her that it wasn't good for her to hold it in, but that made no difference. It was as if it wasn't even her place to grieve, especially now when she could hear Daniel's.

"My baby," Kristina's reedy voice wailed, and her cries joined Daniel's sobs. A few other soft weeping sounds, particularly those of Anna-Kristina and Margareta, underscored the voices of Gabriella's husband and mother; even Christian was crying again, she realized when she grew aware of his chest heaving irregularly against her. Still she couldn't let go.

Voices murmured around her in _jordiska_ and she realized that one by one, they were saying their final goodbyes to Gabriella. Christian regained control but continued to hold her, waiting in patient silence, till the only voice she could hear now was Daniel's; even Kristina must have been wheeled away.

"You...you must have seen her," Daniel blurted suddenly in a waterlogged voice.

Once again Leslie flinched, but then Christian responded, "Yes...we did. We saw it happen." His voice was flat and wooden with tight control. "I tried to stop her. I kept begging her to stop wailing, to stop screaming...I tried to keep her in one place—all she wanted was to get out, to get away. She seemed..." He hesitated. "I don't know. She was convinced she was going to die, that we all were. I wanted to see to it that...that she was wrong."

"Then she..." A sob cut him off and it was a moment before he tried again. "Something had panicked her, maybe?"

"We think it was...side effects from the serum that Rogan Callaghan and Marina LiSciola were trying to develop to eradicate the need for Briella and her sisters, and anyone else who has to have amakarna every day, to take the spice. Because of what Rogan had to use to make the stuff an effective counteragent." Christian spoke in a monotone, but his voice wavered a little nonetheless. "Briella wasn't the only one who suffered that effect. It got her k-killed..." Leslie heard Christian's voice thicken and die, as if it had been squeezed into disuse by his latest round of grief. "I'm so sorry, Daniel."

"Where did she find out about this...serum?" Daniel asked. Leslie froze stiff in her husband's arms.

"My father-in-law was looking for volunteers from a large database of people he knew of who had to have amakarna. He...he told Leslie to send the girls a message explaining about it, but insisted that she emphasize the risks any volunteer would be taking. She did that, Daniel—in fact, she went out of her way to insist that they not step up to volunteer themselves. She just thought they were entitled to know about it."

There was silence, and Leslie waited for the explosion, the verbal abuse, the attack born of grief. But the pause stretched until her muscles ached from holding herself so still, before at last Daniel cursed softly in his native Swedish. "My stubborn orchid. You could never talk sense into her when she seized on an idea. I...I always knew she hated having to take that spice every morning, but I never dreamed she loathed it to the extent that she would willingly present herself as a guinea pig for a serum under trial."

"She kept saying she shouldn't hold herself above doing such a thing just because she was the queen, that she shouldn't be exempt from risks. I was so angry with her..." Again Christian's voice was squeezed into momentary silence. Leslie heard him swallow hard before he resumed speaking. "Leslie and then Briella herself told me it was her decision to make, but I couldn't stop myself from trying to change her mind."

"Did Leslie talk to her?" Daniel asked.

"I don't know. I know only that she told Briella and her sisters specifically not to volunteer. That was as far as she could go; after that it was out of her hands."

Daniel made a noise of thoughtful acknowledgment. A few beats elapsed; then his voice changed. "What's wrong with her? She's so quiet."

"I...I think she's suffering from a misplaced sense of guilt. She's afraid that the family and the people will blame her for Briella's death." Christian loosened his grip on Leslie and took a step back, lifting her head. "My Rose, you're going to make yourself sick, and you may endanger that baby you're carrying. For fate's sake, let it out, please."

Leslie blinked at him, hand still fisted against her mouth; then, fearfully, she dared at last to turn her head and look at Daniel. His face was lined with grief, but there was compassion in his eyes. "Christian's right, Leslie. Let it out. Briella chose to step in and do this, even after you told her not to. It's not your fault, and if any of the damned tabloids in this country try to say it is, we'll squash them without further ado. But you must stop taking the blame when it's not yours to take."

By the time he finished speaking, Leslie was quaking so badly that Christian's face had filled with alarm. "Leslie, come on—let it out, _now!"_

"I wish I'd never told them," she bleated in a wobbling squeak. "I should never have sent that message...never should have..." She threw Christian a look of desperate appeal that made him gasp and tighten his grip on her, before the dam gave way at last and she broke down, her legs no longer holding her up. Christian crushed her against him and rocked her back and forth, smoothing her hair.

_"Herregud, _it must have been killing her," she vaguely heard Daniel say, over her own uncontrollable sobbing. "She saw Briella die too, didn't she?"

"Yes, and she's had nightmares every night since it happened," Christian confirmed. "I haven't slept very well myself...I know we'll never forget what we saw. In a way, Briella herself can't be held to blame either. She wasn't in her right mind by the time that conscienceless maniac shot her. One of the other participants in the trial, a man from Switzerland, died the same way, for the same reason." He sighed. "It's best if we explain everything to the whole family, so that there's no need to tell it over and over again."

"Perhaps it's better to arrange a press conference," Daniel said. "I'll speak to Carl Johan about it—now that he's acting ruler, I expect these are his decisions to make."

"Agreed." Christian sighed again, then pressed a kiss to Leslie's head. "All right, my Rose, it's going to be all right now, I promise. I told you you aren't to blame, and now you see I was right, don't you?"

"Wh-what ab-bout the oth-others?" Leslie managed.

"Ach, Leslie, my Rose, do you have any idea how exasperating you can be sometimes?" he teased softly, shaking his head at her. "I suppose they'll have to prove it to you as well. We'd better leave Briella in peace; she has to make a final public appearance for the next three days, and that's our time for private mourning. Fate knows we need it. Come with us; we're going up to talk to Carl Johan and Amalia."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § – October 29, 2008

They found Christian's two surviving older siblings and their spouses in the suite Carl Johan and Amalia had shared for almost four decades; they were sipping glasses of Lilla Jordsö's indigenous apple wine when Daniel followed Christian and Leslie inside. Leslie had managed to calm down for the most part, though she felt as though she were balancing on a razor edge. Her head felt a little too big for her body, and she knew if she had any of that wine, she was likely to get spectacularly drunk; she also knew she probably shouldn't have any at all, being pregnant. But she accepted a glass anyway when Anna-Laura offered her one. "You look as though you need it, poor thing," the princess observed with a sympathetic smile. "We have plenty of _eplavin_ in the cellars, so don't hold back. It seems to be a night to justify letting loose."

Carl Johan had been squinting hard at Leslie, and now when she and Christian sat down across from him and Amalia, he asked worriedly, "Leslie, are you all right?"

"Are any of us all right?" Christian retorted with a raised brow, which his brother gave right back to him. He grinned crookedly for half a second. "But no, even in comparison with the rest of us, she's not. She's afraid the family and the people will ultimately blame her for Briella's death." At his siblings' and in-laws' incredulous looks, he explained to them what he had told Daniel shortly beforehand.

Carl Johan shook his head, still looking weary, but smiling kindly, if wanly. "Leslie, for fate's sake," he scolded in gentle tones. "No one blames you for Briella's death. No, I don't care that you sent her that message, and neither do the rest of us. Christian showed us the copy he printed out before you came back with Briella's body. You made it very plain that you felt it was unwise for Arnulf's girls to offer themselves for the trial; what happened after that was Briella's responsibility and no one else's." He fielded Leslie's lingering doubt, read it correctly, and shook his head, still smiling. "No, even Kristina doesn't blame you."

Leslie's tears flooded over, just like that. "I can't believe it...I just...you're all so generous. I...I've felt so horrible for days."

Christian, whose hand had been threading through her hair in comforting strokes, leaned forward and studied her. "Leslie, I think something more is wrong. You're not as relaxed as you should be. What's really the matter?"

She covered her mouth and stared at him as if he'd just ripped her soul out of its container. "Christian, omigod...how in the world do you read me like that?"

He grinned again, then kissed her forehead and said, "I love you, Leslie, and I'm in constant tune to you." Growing serious, he tangled his fingers in her hair again. "You're so certain that we're going to hold you responsible for things you had no control over; you haven't unloaded on any of us, not even me; you're so obviously walking on eggshells around us all, we aren't quite sure it's you. You're holding yourself apart. Why?"

She hesitated, hanging on the edge of telling him and being afraid to, especially with five other family members as witnesses. As if sensing her dilemma, Daniel arose. "I think I'd better go. I wanted...I wanted a private goodbye with Briella in any case. I'll...I'll see all of you at breakfast." They all murmured goodnights after him, and he departed.

"Does that make it any easier to talk, now?" Christian prodded gently.

"Not really," Leslie said candidly, which got her chuckles from all the others. She let out a shaky breath and took in their faces, remembering past times when they had gathered together for quiet discussions. The one that came most handily to mind was the night Esbjörn had miraculously returned to Anna-Laura and the family fold, when he had filled them in on his long captivity and the complicated reasons behind it. All of a sudden she really wanted them to know; she took a deep breath and addressed Christian to begin with. "Don't take this the wrong way, my love, please," she begged, "but...I don't really feel as if I'm fully part of the family. I still feel like an outsider."

She'd expected shock, but she got patient puzzlement, which was much easier to take and made her fall still more deeply in love with him for his bottomless understanding. "Why in the world would you feel like that? My Rose, you know how much I love you, and you know the family has always been very welcoming of you."

"I know...but I...oh, damn, I really need to use English for this." He nodded smiling agreement; she scraped her lower lip with her teeth and gave him a swift hug before turning in his embrace to speak to the other four. "It's nothing against you, not at all. I think you're all wonderful, and I feel so lucky to be a member of the family. But I don't...I guess I never felt that I fully fit in. I mean, look at me. I can speak _jordiska_, but not very well still. I'm not even _jordisk_ myself, not by birth or ancestry. I don't have any memories in common with the rest of you. The night Esbjörn came back, you all had memories of what had happened, vivid ones...and all I could do was ask some really stupid questions. And I'm so much younger than all of you, even Christian—you're all fifties babies and I was born in the sixties, so I feel like a silly little kid around you sometimes. You have poise and grace and self-confidence, and you're all so assured and calm...I'm just this klutzy commoner, and sometimes I feel as if I somehow tricked poor Christian into falling for me."

_"Herregud, _Leslie!" Christian exclaimed in disbelief.

"Hear me out, please?" she pleaded, and he shrugged and acquiesced, though he still looked incredulous. "When Christian decided he wanted to marry me, by rights I should've given up my life and joined him here—and instead I took him away from you because he made the move to be with me. That set me even farther outside your sphere and took Christian a good ways out of it too. And our children are growing up not being as familiar with their relatives here as they should be." She let her head fall forward and shook it a few times. "I feel guilty enough for all that...but now it's just ten times worse after what happened to Gabriella. We never thought it would turn out the way it did, and it all happened because I sent her and her sisters that damned message. I shouldn't have. I should have kept them in the dark, let them wait...let others take the place Briella insisted on taking. She'd be alive now if it weren't for that message. I feel responsible."

"I've tried to tell her that isn't true," Christian said helplessly, "but she doesn't listen to me. It's one of the few failings I've found in her. Someone please convince her."

"Briella made her own decision, Leslie," Anna-Laura said. "I know you know that as well as anyone else, but I can see why Christian gets so frustrated with you—you keep trying to assume blame for something that you couldn't control. Leslie, you see, it's one thing to absolve responsibility for anything, including the things that genuinely are your own fault. But you go too far the other way. You not only take responsibility for anything you actually did, you try to take it for others' actions as well. Leslie, you need to learn when to stop, when to let go and allow someone else to step in. I wonder how many times my poor brother has had to insist that what Briella did is not your fault. For fate's sake, let yourself be convinced, because it happens to be the truth."

Faintly Leslie protested, "But people have a way of..."

_"Damn_ people," Christian said fiercely. "You worry too much about what they'll think of you. What they do and say isn't worth a tin _öre_, do you hear me, Leslie Enstad? Your focus should be on those who know and love you. Worry about us and our opinions if you must, but to hell with people in general."

Leslie gaped at him. "Wow," she mumbled.

Esbjörn chuckled and said, "He makes his point in a rather graphic manner, Leslie, but he's still correct. The truth is the truth, and the misguided ideas of ignorant and uninformed people don't change that. You can never hope to be universally adored—even Christian there has his detractors among our people, and he's always been the best-loved family member of us all. There are always those who live to sow discord. Or, as my son has put it...let me see if I can remember precisely what he said..." He squinted at the ceiling and cleared his throat before saying the words as though taking a test. " 'Haters gonna hate.' "

They all burst into loud laughter at that, even Leslie. "Did he say that in the original English?" Carl Johan asked through his guffaws.

"I believe he did, yes," Esbjörn said with a nod, and their laughter renewed itself. It took a couple of minutes for it to die off enough that he turned to Leslie with a broad grin. "So you see, it can only harm you to worry so much about other people and what they do. Let Briella take responsibility for her own actions. You only told her about the trial and said she shouldn't volunteer. It was her decision to defy that advice."

"You ascribe far too much power to yourself if you thought you could change her mind once she made it up," Carl Johan said humorously. "All three of Arnulf's daughters are like that. For that matter, the whole family is. If you can't think for yourself, you don't deserve to bear the name of Enstad." Again there was laughter. "And as for your feeling like an outsider, I can understand why you must perceive yourself as being set apart. But here again, it goes back to not taking responsibility for the decisions and actions of others. We know the story all too well by now. It was Christian who made the decision to move to Fantasy Island, because he loved you so much that he was willing to change everything he knew, uproot his whole world and leave the home he'd always known, simply to be with you. And trust me, Christian is the most stubborn one of us all." He winked, setting off still more laughter.

"If we ever made you feel as though you didn't belong, Leslie," Amalia said, "let me apologize on behalf of us all. But that was never our intention, believe me. Should circumstances ever dictate that you find yourself moving back to Lilla Jordsö with Christian, you'll be just as welcome here as anyone else who married into the family. You belong to us, Leslie, no matter where you live. You _are_ an Enstad, just as much as I am for being Carl Johan's wife, or Esbjörn is for being Anna-Laura's husband, despite that she took his surname." She smiled. "Besides, I've always had the sense that even if we didn't welcome you, or feel that you belonged, Christian would remedy that without delay."

"Ach, you know me too well," Christian remarked, chuckling. He turned Leslie's head so that she faced him again. "We all make our own choices, my darling. The only choices and actions you have a right to lay claim to are your own. To continue to insist that someone else's deeds are somehow your fault may seem noble to you, but it hints at outsized ego, in its peculiar way—as if you felt you had control over other people and must therefore assume the blame for them. As I told you that first day, Briella's death was no one's fault but that of Hotaia Sese, and he paid the ultimate price for taking her life in any case. Now, for fate's sake, let it rest, will you, please?"

Leslie's face had long since heated up from embarrassment, and she closed her eyes and sighed. "I really feel stupid now. You'd think I could reason that far on my own, but I always seem to have to be taught these lessons I should already know."

"Oh, truly," snorted Christian with light exasperation. "Some people never learn those lessons, my Rose, whether on their own or through the tutoring of others. And oh yes...that business about being so much younger than the rest of us—as you like to say, that's a crock. It means absolutely nothing at all. So I have seven years on you. What does it matter? Carl Johan and Amalia and Esbjörn all have eight years on me, but you certainly aren't going to find me kneeling at their feet expecting them to shower me with the wisdom of their advanced age." He threw a smug look at the others, who playfully booed him. "You're one of us, Leslie, no matter what. Of course, if you still feel clumsy compared to the rest of us, we can always make you attend Royal Comportment classes alongside the children."

Leslie, giggling, lightly bounced a fist off his shoulder. "Okay, okay, you've made your point!" He grinned at her and hugged her close, and she nestled her head on his shoulder and regarded the other four, who watched with smiles that looked curiously relieved. "You've all just proven what I said before—I think you're all wonderful. I don't think there are too many families who'd go out of their way to explain what probably should've been obvious from the start, and with so much patience and understanding too. Thank you all, for being so caring—and for Christian, too." She sat up enough to kiss Christian, then smiled at him. "I don't think they realize what a gift they gave me in you."

"Don't swell his head too much, Leslie, or you'll have to pay extra weight charges on your flights home," said Anna-Laura dryly, and once more everyone laughed. She sat back and lifted her wineglass. "Oh, I must admit, laughing feels so good, in the face of the sorrow we've been enduring. I suspect Briella would have approved."

"I do too," Amalia said. "I feel as though I can face the funeral now."

"Oh." Christian sat up straight, still holding Leslie. "For some reason that reminded me of something Daniel said just before we came up here. He suggested holding a press conference so that the true story of what happened to Briella can be told, to counter whatever filthy little fairy tales the garbage press may dream up. He felt that this would probably go to you for ultimate approval, Carl Johan, since now you're acting ruler."

Carl Johan sighed and combed one hand through his hair, which Leslie realized for the first time contained almost as much gray as glossy chestnut brown. "I suppose that's true. _Herregud_...all the responsibilities that sit on me now...I can still remember around the time Father was crowned, saying I felt fortunate being in the middle, because I didn't have the parental expectations that Arnulf had to live up to, being next in line for the throne, or the misery of being Father's scapegoat as you had to be, Christian. Now when I see what I must preserve for my grandson when he comes of age, I realize that I had a much easier life than I knew to appreciate. Perhaps I should have sat in on more parliamentary sessions, but I didn't want to waste that much of my life asleep."

Christian burst out laughing, and the others joined in. "Don't expect me to feel very sorry for you, _äldrebror_, and I definitely don't envy you. But if you treat me right, I promise to at least sympathize with your plight." He chortled at Carl Johan's dirty look. "So what do you say about the press conference?"

Carl Johan nodded. "I don't think we should do it during the official mourning, though. We'll have to have Matti's coronation and my investiture as regent by the time Briella has been gone from us two weeks, but that's plenty of time to hold a press conference and give us the proper mourning period. That also gives us time to find the papers Briella is supposed to have left, explaining her decision." He sighed and raised his glass. "We came here to drink, didn't we? I think we should."

"You came here to drink? In that case, count me in." Christian grinned and lifted his own glass, taking a long draft. "Delicious."

"Have some, Leslie," Anna-Laura urged.

She smiled and admitted, "I really want to, but see, I have this pregnancy..."

They laughed again, and Anna-Laura apologized. "I should have remembered—it's so new to us. Congratulations again. I suspect there are already national betting pools on whether you'll have a boy or a girl." Glasses were raised in toast, and even Leslie took a little sip, feeling far better than she had just half an hour ago.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - October 30, 2008

Michiko and Cat had managed an uneasy coexistence in their shared guest suite; they had filled the empty silence by watching television, despite that most of it was in _jordiska_ and they couldn't understand it. Cat eventually had managed to come across an imported British program while channel-surfing, but it hadn't interested Michiko and she'd ended up checking her iPad in the hope that one of her friends back on Fantasy Island might be online and willing to exchange instant messages. That had fizzled out: she had forgotten the twelve-hour time difference, and in the end found herself worrying about Leslie.

Now, on Thursday morning, she contemplated invading the Enstads' sanctuary on the north side of the great entry; she was feeling isolated and lonely, and still worried about Leslie. Cat slept on, obviously taking advantage of being out of school for the duration of their stay here; so Michiko slipped out of bed, found some fresh clothing and got dressed in the bathroom, marveling anew at the amenities in these suites. The last time she had been in Lilla Jordsö had been—perhaps ironically—for Gabriella's coronation, but she had never had a chance to see any of the family's suites, even the one Christian and Leslie had been staying in at the time. Memories of Errico came back to her and she let herself mourn again for a few minutes as she finished applying makeup, trying not to cry in the middle of it all.

She had just emerged when there came a knock on the door; she opened it to a young servant with unruly blonde curls and a deep dimple in her chin. The girl curtsied and said in careful English, "Breakfast waits in the dining room, Your Majesty. The family ask you to come and join them."

"Thank you," Michiko said with a smile, and the girl curtsied again and departed. As Michiko closed the door, Cat stirred and blinked awake.

"Good to see you this morning," Michiko said lightly, using Arcolosian in the hope that her daughter's native tongue might warm the atmosphere between them. "We just had word that breakfast is waiting; are you hungry?"

Cat shrugged. "I guess," she mumbled and got out of bed, studiously ignoring Michiko while she hunted for clothes. Michiko waited quietly, trying her utmost not to wish she had talked her mother into coming along and being a buffer between her and her prickly daughter. She wasn't sure Miyoshi would have come; her mother was in her early 80s now, and probably would have said she was too old for such a long trip. Michiko secretly suspected Miyoshi was just glad to have her apartment to herself for a week or so; she couldn't really blame her, since she was looking forward to moving into her own house.

It was still too early for the public mourning ritual to have begun, although the bier had already been set up in the great entry and castle staff were flitting back and forth, doing all sorts of last-minute things. Two groups were fastening heavy white drapes over the arched entrances to the corridors in the north wing, and Cat evinced enough interest to turn to Michiko and ask, "What are they doing?"

"It's part of the royal family's grief ritual here," Michiko explained. "The people come in to say goodbye to the monarch who just died, and the family stays in their own rooms. The drapes go up there to show the people that the family is in mourning, so they'll have their privacy. I think they post guards there too, to keep out people who would just go through the curtains anyway."

"Oh," murmured Cat, staring at the drape-hanging operation as they crossed the great entry and skirted the bier. Michiko glanced around her, hoping absurdly that nobody had been listening in with disapproval, even though she and Cat had spoken in Arcolosian. It was a relief to her when they gained the entrance to the royal family's dining room; then she was distracted by her surprise that the meal was actually laid out buffet-style. Relief swept her when she saw Christian and Leslie on the far end, helping the triplets choose items and place them on plates.

"Mommy, there's Cat," Karina said, loudly enough that both Michiko and Cat overheard. Leslie looked up, brightened and signaled Michiko to join them, which she did with alacrity, plate in hand. Cat followed along, toting her own plate but eyeing the food as if she thought it might be too alien for her taste.

"You look better than I was afraid you would," Michiko told her friend after they'd traded greetings. "Something must have happened."

Leslie nodded, keeping one eye on the children. "We had quite a talk last night—the six of us, that is...Carl Johan and Amalia, Esbjörn and Anna-Laura, and Christian and me. I think it helped us all." She pulled in a breath, glancing down at her own plate, then catching sight of her daughter. "Susanna, don't take any more of those, leave some for the rest of the family. Carl Johan okayed a press conference once the official mourning and lying-in is over...I don't know exactly when, but it could be the day of the funeral. I don't know yet."

"I see," Michiko murmured. "But are you sure you're all right? You're not being ridiculous and still taking the blame for Gabriella's death?"

"No, not anymore. I got a few home truths hammered into me last evening," said Leslie. "Of course, I still wish it hadn't happened, but Father'd be the first to tell me there's no changing history."

"Sadly enough," put in Christian, who had been listening in. "But we can only tender our farewells to Briella and then prepare for perhaps the youngest monarch in our history. Carl Johan is a little daunted at all the responsibilities he faces now."

"I wouldn't doubt it! Now what relationship is he to the new king-to-be?" Michiko asked, watching Cat inch along the buffet table, peering at the offerings.

"Matti is Carl Johan's grandson, his first grandchild. Since Briella and her sisters couldn't have their own children and the succession must by law be through a blood relative, Briella chose Matti to succeed her since he was the first of my father's great-grandchildren. He's about to have his seventh birthday." Christian noticed where Michiko's gaze was trained and followed it, then chuckled. "Picky, is she?"

"Probably just unfamiliar with most of the food," Michiko said. "Arcolosian cuisine has a lot of differences from _jordisk_, but most so at breakfast, I think." She raised her voice a little. "Catalina, if you want something, then take it."

"I don't see any minced fish and eggs," Cat said, scowling at her mother.

"Then just take plain eggs," Michiko said, trying not to lose her patience. She gave Christian and Leslie an apologetic smile. "It's an Arcolosian breakfast dish that's been her favorite ever since she started eating solid food. We eat a lot of fish in Arcolos too, but almost none of the same ones I've heard you eat here." She smiled. "I get daily e-mails from Adriana." As Christian and Leslie laughed, Michiko had an idea. "Adriana...yes! Do you think it would bother Roald if Cat spent the day in their suite?"

"I guess you two still aren't getting along too well," Leslie said sympathetically.

"Not as well as we should be. She speaks to me only when she has to. Adriana knows all about the problems we're having, so I have some hope she might be willing to intercede, if she isn't too busy with Staffan. Cat and Adriana adore each other." Michiko sighed, glancing back toward the stacks of plates at the other end of the table. "I think I should have gotten in line, like everyone else. I didn't mean to cut."

Leslie giggled. "Go ahead and start from the beginning. We'll wait for you when we get finished...if the triplets ever get done choosing, that is." Michiko laughed and retreated to the beginning of the line to get breakfast.

Christian found a place to set down his plate and dug his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling down a list of preprogrammed numbers till he located Roald's and pushed the button to dial it. When he connected, he had a quick conversation in _jordiska_, then hung up and smiled. "Roald says Adriana is thrilled about having her little sister come in and stay with them. I presume in that case that Michiko will be with us."

"Where else would she be?" Leslie replied with a grin. "I'll let her know when we get finished. Come on now, Karina, are you going to take one of those or not?"

"We need to hurry, it won't be long before the public starts to come through," said Christian, gently urging a dawdling Tobias along and quickly filling his own plate.

Michiko watched them go, taking favorite dishes and a few new ones alike, and caught up with Cat much faster than she had expected to. "Are you finished?"

"They don't have anything I like," Cat muttered. "Not even proper jam."

"Well, then, you'll just have to badger your sister about what to eat, because I'm not familiar with _jordisk_ cuisine and we have to clear the dining room soon. Let's go, hurry up." Michiko nudged her sulking daughter along with her and came abreast of Christian, Leslie and their children. "I think we're ready."

"I don't want to sit and listen to grownups talking about boring stuff," complained Cat, thankfully in Arcolosian, as Michiko trailed Christian and Leslie out and to the family living quarters. "There's nobody my age I can play with here."

"That happens to be why you're going to spend the day with your sister and her husband," Michiko said a little tartly. "I'm going to stay with Mrs. Enstad, so you can forget I ever existed and tell Adriana all about how I'm the world's worst mother and how much you hate me." She snapped her mouth shut before she went any further, knowing it would get her nowhere, and stared straight ahead, compressing her lips in the hope of staving off the tears that were trying to form.

Cat didn't say anything, which was about what Michiko had expected; and luckily, the walk to Christian and Leslie's suite was long enough for her to succeed in fighting back her encroaching unhappiness and put on a proper façade. Leslie stopped a servant in the corridor and, in slightly labored _jordiska_, directed him to take Cat to Roald and Adriana's suite on the second floor; the young man bowed to her, smiled at Cat and said in English, "Come with me, please." Cat left without a backward glance; Michiko watched her go for a moment, then blew out her breath and followed Christian and Leslie inside.

The triplets sat on the floor around the heavy applewood coffee table that provided a focal point for the grouping of chairs and loveseats in the corner at the right of the doorway; Christian, Leslie and Michiko balanced their plates on their laps and talked a little here and there while everyone ate. They had nearly finished when there was a knock; Christian responded in _jordiska_, and Amalia poked her head in. _"Har ni sluttat frykosten?"_

_ "Ja, nesten så—kommer du ock Carl Johan a' snakka igen? I så'n tagen måsta ni snakka på engelska, vi har en gjest."_ Christian grinned at her, and she chuckled back and stepped inside with Carl Johan behind her.

Amalia caught sight of Michiko and laughed. "Oh...I see what you mean now, yes. I apologize, Your Majesty. Carl Johan and I merely wondered whether you had finished eating yet; also, Leslie, Liselotta sent a message with us, asking if the children would like to go up to our suite. Liselotta will be supervising most of the younger children, and we thought perhaps we'd better all gather in one place and discuss the protocol involved in Matti's coronation."

"That's probably wise," Christian agreed. "It's an unusual situation this time around." He glanced at Leslie and said as if only just reminded, "Ach...I think we ought to show the older children the recordings of the last three coronations, to give them an idea of what's expected of them."

"Yeah, you're right," Leslie said, blinking. "That crossed my mind a few times before we left Fantasy Island, but then I forgot all about it." She turned to the triplets. "Well, you three, would you like to go upstairs and play with your cousins, when you're done?"

"All of them?" Karina asked hopefully. "Lisi and Toria and Natalia, and all the rest?"

"I'm sure they'll all be there, sweetie," Leslie said. "Finish your breakfast first."

The triplets began shoveling food into their mouths, despite both parents' admonitions to slow down, and Carl Johan and Amalia laughed and took the unoccupied loveseat. Christian cleared his plate, arose and caught a servant, giving her several instructions in his own language and gesturing at the triplets. When they had left, he flagged down another servant and had him take away the breakfast dishes. Carl Johan watched his younger brother return to the loveseat and settle down beside Leslie. "You might as well never have left here, the way you deliver instructions so naturally," he observed.

"As Leslie and quite a few other people have told me," said Christian humorously, "once a prince, always a prince. Truly, _äldrebror_, I wasn't _that_ young when I moved out of the country." They laughed, and Michiko got up and took a seat at the end of Christian and Leslie's loveseat to leave some room for the other adults.

In a little less than ten minutes, they had all arrived: Gerhard; Rudolf and Louisa; Roald and Adriana; Anna-Kristina and Kai, whose two oldest girls had accompanied them; Margareta and her wife Gudrun; and Esbjörn and Anna-Laura, the last to appear, apologizing for running late and blaming Lisi's lack of appetite. They all greeted Michiko with bows or curtsies as they came in, so that Michiko was finally driven to speak up when everyone had been seated and say, "I really do hope none of you will feel obligated to do that every time you enter a room I'm in. Technically I'm only the dowager queen, and even if I'm due that gesture, I don't feel right about accepting it. Please, just do as Leslie does and treat me as an equal. Otherwise I'm going to feel terribly ornamental."

Everyone laughed and acceded to her wishes; then Carl Johan turned to Anna-Laura. "Well, then, _lill'syster_, do us a favor and advise us on the protocol we need to follow for this coronation, and more relevantly, for my investiture as regent. Christian mentioned something about videos of the last three coronations, so that we can show the children what they're expected to do during Matti's ceremony."

Anna-Laura nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea. Well, a bit of background first, for those who aren't familiar with our traditions, and as a refresher for all of us. We always hold the coronations in the great entry, as you may be aware if you watched Arnulf's and Gabriella's on television. The coronation will be the same as if Matti were an adult, except for the list of duties. That's normally required in the ceremony, but of course he won't be assuming any of them until he reaches his eighteenth birthday in 2019. I mention this because—and I apologize, _äldrebror_—you instead will have to endure that recitation when you go through the regency ceremony, so that you know what you're up against."

"I listened a little harder than I needed to when Arnulf was crowned," Carl Johan said with a faint smile. "The longer the list went on, the happier I was that I wasn't the one being crowned. The irony is staggering."

Again they all laughed, and Anna-Laura shook her head with amusement and went on. "Now, as to the regency investiture itself: it too is a ceremony, separate from the coronation, and will have to be held on the same day. Because Carl Johan will be acting in the king's stead, he is considered to be the king for the period his regency is active, even though he isn't actually called king. There won't be the separate show of obeisance that Matti's ceremony has, though. Instead, when it's required, we will all bow or curtsy from our places on the dais, at the same time the guests do so. The placement of the crown atop the new monarch's head is also eliminated, for obvious reasons. So the ceremony will be no shorter than the coronation...nor any less boring." She slanted Christian a look as she said this last, and he shrugged, bringing on another round of chuckles.

"How long has it been since the last time we had a regent?" Gerhard asked. "It occurs to me that if the procedure isn't calcified under some archaic law, we could update it."

"I'll have to read over the procedures," Anna-Laura told him. "Fortunately, I'll have a chance to do that while we're in official mourning. I don't think there should be any objection to updating it if it seems necessary; after all, Daniel found Briella's last instructions in her desk, and it appears she changed coronation protocol yet again."

"That's what she told me," Leslie said. "She wanted me to reassure Christian that she had abolished all Sire's arcane and sadistic little rules."

_"Ach—mina tackar till dej, Briella!"_ Christian exclaimed, hands raised as if in praise, and everyone laughed. "Fates have mercy, but I was worried!" At that point he too broke into laughter, and some of his nieces and nephews teased him a little before Anna-Laura called for their attention once more.

"Now that we have all the necessary information out of the way," she said, "it's time for a little trivia. In answer to Gerhard's question, our last regency was for King Johan V, the same monarch who built Premier University; he ascended to the throne at age fourteen, and his regent was Queen Jorunn, his aunt and wife of King Erik XII. That was two centuries ago—two hundred three years, to be precise."

"So is Matti the youngest-ever monarch to take the throne?" asked Margareta.

"Not quite—he's the second-youngest. The youngest was King Lukas IV; he was four when he ascended. And just for a completely irrelevant bit of trivia, the _oldest_ monarch to take the throne was our great-grandfather, Erik XIII; he was 50 when he became king." She smiled as glances were exchanged. "We should be accustomed to regencies; Carl Johan's for Matti will be the sixth since the dynasty was founded. But as I said, I'll look over the procedures and see if anything needs to be rewritten, even if it's only the old-fashioned wording of the ceremony."

"Six regencies, in how many years of this country's history?" Michiko asked, caught up in the proceedings in spite of herself. She was deeply intrigued and delighted by this family's way of handling the coronation issue; in Arcolos, everything went on behind closed doors and was arranged by nameless, faceless palace staff. Lilla Jordsö's royal family was clearly in charge of its own traditions and ceremonies, and there was plenty of room for change and modernization, whereas Arcolos' traditions were ancient, storied and revered out of all proportion.

Anna-Laura smiled broadly at her, as if happy that someone outside the family was showing an interest. "Our original ancestor, Magnus Ormssvärd, founded Lilla Jordsö in the year 1092, so we've been around for 916 years—and small though we are, we can take pride in saying that ours is the longest unbroken royal dynasty on earth. Matti will be our thirty-seventh monarch from the time Ormssvärd proclaimed himself king." Her gaze suddenly shot to Christian, and to Michiko's surprise Anna-Laura warned with twitching lips, "And I order you here and now, _ungstebror_, no Ormsskägg jokes!"

Laughter broke out as Christian exaggerated his reaction, turning his palms up and demanding, "Did I say anything? Did I? Or what, did I look as if I was about to?" He too started to laugh; Michiko giggled because their mirth was contagious, but she made a mental note to ask Leslie for explanations the first chance she got.

"You still call him Ormsskägg?" Esbjörn blurted, laughing. "Christian, you really do never change." The laughter rose again, and Christian volleyed with Margareta and Rudolf, returning their good-natured jibes in _jordiska_, while they all settled down again.

"All right, all right," Anna-Laura said, still loosing a few chortles. "I think that's everything, unless anyone has questions."

No one did, so the group dispersed; Anna-Laura, about to leave with Esbjörn, stopped short all of a sudden and whipped around to stare at Christian and Leslie. "How could I have forgotten! I meant to tell everyone—Esbjörn, why didn't you remind me?"

"Because I don't know what you forgot, Lauri _mi,"_ he returned with a grin, and she rolled her eyes, setting off Christian again. "What did you have in mind?"

"I was looking in the archives for the procedures for the regency investment ceremony, and I came across an old film canister. The film was a bit brittle, so I've had it sent to the city to be transferred to DVD, and I'll give you two a copy to take home with you if you like. It's black-and-white newsreel footage of Grandfather Lukas' coronation in 1934."

_"Herregud,"_ exclaimed Christian, looking intrigued. "Now that, I'd find extremely interesting. Do you know when it's supposed to come back?"

"With some luck, they'll have it back to us, along with the original film, before Matti is crowned and you two and Michiko must return home. I wanted to tell the family as a surprise, but it completely slipped my mind. Perhaps it will be a way of cheering everyone a little, once the lying-in and funeral are complete. Burying Briella is going to take a great deal out of us, particularly Kristina and Anna-Kristina."

"It will at that," Christian agreed, much of his levity dissolving. "I'm glad you brought that up, Anna-Laura. I'll certainly look forward to that."

When they were gone, Michiko got up again and took a chair, allowing Christian and Leslie more room on their loveseat. "So what's this Orms...Orms-whatever business?"

Leslie giggled while Christian smirked, and explained her husband's irreverent nick-name for his centuries-dead ancestor. Michiko shook her head, laughing. "Only you could give a snake a beard, Christian Enstad."

"I couldn't resist one year, for Anna-Laura's birthday, giving her a gift of a caricature of Ormssvärd as a bearded snake," Christian said, snickering. "It was right after Ceci was born, back in 1978. Esbjörn loved it—he nearly gave himself a heart attack from laughing so hard, and he insisted on hanging it in their suite's living room."

"You rogue," Leslie said, laughing too. "Oh my goodness...you know, I keep thinking we're all having much too good a time here, in light of the reason we came."

"I think I dare suggest that Briella would have approved," Christian mused, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and snugging her closer. "She wanted no mourning at her own coronation, and I suspect she would have insisted on the same for Matti's." Leslie nodded, her eyes distant, and they fell silent for a moment as Michiko watched, feeling like an intruder on their private mourning.

Then Leslie turned and kissed Christian's cheek, and he smiled at her, squeezing her, before they both turned to Michiko. "So you're still having problems with your young princess, are you?" Christian inquired comfortably, resettling himself and slouching a bit.

Michiko sighed. "I sometimes wonder if she isn't just a stunted teenager." Christian and Leslie both laughed, and she responded with a reluctant little grin. "She's not even seven yet, and she's been doing a championship job of ignoring and snubbing me in exactly the way a teenage girl would do. Nothing I say gets through to her. My mother won't interfere; she just tells me to be patient and eventually Cat will come around. I'm not so sure. Paolono and Lindalia are coming for the funeral, and Marcolo will be with them. I have a strong feeling that Cat will drive them through the roof begging and pleading with them to take her back to Arcolos when they leave." She met their gazes. "I seriously considered leaving her with my mother while I came here, but I guess I was hoping that being forced to spend her time only with me would bring on some sort of breakthrough. And now that I know her brothers are coming...the more I think about it, the longer she treats me like this, the more tempted I am to let them take her."

"You'd be horribly lonely without her," Leslie ventured.

"It might be the best of bad choices. Let her go back and live in the palace and face that loneliness, or keep her with me and endure her endless hostility and resentment."

Christian made a low bass rumble deep in his throat and shifted again, slouching some more. "Perhaps she needs a therapist, someone impartial to talk to."

"There aren't any on the island," said Michiko. "I did some online checking and the closest one is at the Air Force base on Coral Island." She eyed Leslie sardonically. "I suppose all Fantasy Island children are so well-adjusted they don't need a shrink."

Leslie shrugged, feeling sheepish. "I realize it sounds stupid, but I honestly wouldn't know about that. I think you'd have to ask Father."

They were quiet for a moment; then Christian mused, "Mind you, Michiko, this is my opinion only, nothing more. But if I were you, I think I'd let her have her way. She thinks this is what she wants; if Paolono and Lindalia have no objections, then let them take her home with them, and once her joy at being home diminishes enough for her to really think about it, I suspect she'll find herself missing you more than she thought she would. She doesn't believe it now, but you know that saying—be careful what you wish for, because you might get it. And in the meantime, you're free to grieve for Errico, adjust to his absence, build yourself a new life."

Michiko stared at him for a moment, amazed. "I had been thinking about it—or that is to say, my brain was trying to present that as a possibility, but I always shied away from it because it seemed too cruel. But if someone else suggests it, maybe it's not as ill-advised as I was inclined to think."

"Of course not—sure, it may seem cruel on the surface, but occasionally it takes drastic measures to bring a child around to the truth of things. One day she'll reach that point, and it may be enough that she decides to come back and live with you after all. By then, you may have your equilibrium back, and you'll be able to adjust more easily and fit her back into your life." Christian glanced at his watch and added, "I think your stepsons and daughter-in-law are supposed to arrive on a very late flight tonight, so that they can be brought here to the castle and installed in guest suites without disrupting either their arrival and settling-in, or the public farewells to Briella. You can always take Cat to see them at that time, and let them deal with her."

Michiko chuckled. "I have to admit, the idea appeals. It looks so awful on the surface, as though it proves I'm a bad mother. But maybe somehow it could fly." She regarded his slightly sleepy look and said with a grin, "Now I see why your nieces and nephews are forever bombarding you for advice."

Christian shifted only his eyeballs, but gave her such a stare that both she and Leslie burst out laughing. "Maybe I should take up a second job writing an advice column for the island newspaper," he offered sarcastically. "I can take up a desk right beside Myeko."

Leslie hugged him. "My love, I think your problem is, you have a high level of common sense, which apparently makes you unusual in today's world. And you're willing to try unconventional angles, so that to everybody else, it looks like something fresh and new that has a really good chance of succeeding."

"He thinks outside the box, as they say," said Michiko.

"I hate that phrase, it's so overused," Leslie said with a laughing nod, "but that's what he does." She patted Christian's thigh. "Trouble is, you're too good at it."

"Ah, so that's what it is. I suppose I should start playing dumb," Christian teased, laughing softly. "Well, Michiko, if you decide to try it and it's not objectionable to Paolono and Lindalia, keep us informed as to how it works out." He yawned, as much to his own surprise as that of Leslie and Michiko. "My apologies."

"Didn't you sleep last night?" Michiko asked. "Leslie, you're not much better—I didn't want to say anything in front of Christian's family, but I can see dark circles forming under your eyes. What's happening?"

"We're both losing sleep," Christian admitted. "Leslie has nightmares every night now—at least two—and most of the time I'm already awake when she starts reacting to them in her sleep, because I can't sleep for grieving Briella and worrying about Leslie."

"Maybe you two should look into tranquilizers," Michiko said in concern, glancing back and forth between them. "Did you tell Mr. Roarke, Leslie?"

"No...I thought they'd go away eventually, and it's been only three days since it all happened." Leslie huddled against Christian and murmured, "Funny, it seems longer."

"I suspect we'd both better see the castle doctor, my Rose," Christian said, pushing himself back into a proper seating posture and kissing the top of her head. "For now, perhaps the best medicine is some sort of distraction." His expression grew impish. "Does anyone happen to know any good card games?"

"Good grief...I haven't played cards since high school," Michiko said, amused.

"Me either. I can even nail down a date—it was the last time we had a slumber party in the Senseis' rumpus room," Leslie said. "We were seniors and it was spring break, if I remember right. Camille was trying to talk us all into strip poker, when all we knew was War and Crazy Eights, and we ended up slugging her with our pillows."

"And having a giant pillow fight," Michiko added, the recollection popping into her head; they both started to laugh. Christian eyed them with a half-grin, shaking his head.

"Strip poker," he said. "Never would have suspected it of you and your friends. I find myself wishing I could have been there to see that." Leslie grabbed a throw pillow and whacked him with it, and he too burst out laughing. Michiko watched them play-wrestling on the loveseat, breathless with laughter, and realized that for the first time since Errico's death, she felt better, cautiously optimistic about the future—and it felt good.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § – November 3, 2008

After the family's break for their private mourning and the public lying-in in the great entry, Gabriella's relatives had been forced to gather their thoughts about her and coalesce them into short eulogies. In the end Anna-Laura had had to help most of them write things down; Christian, who had spoken off the cuff at Arnulf's service, didn't seem to trust himself and let his sister write his entire one-minute speech for him. Leslie had deliberately written and spoken hers entirely in _jordiska_, with grammatical and syntactical assistance from Anna-Laura and pronunciation tips from Christian when she rehearsed it in front of him. She had trembled badly while delivering the speech at Gabriella's funeral service, for a number of reasons, even though Christian had stayed by her side discreetly caressing her back.

The service—held at the same church in Sundborg where Arnulf's had taken place—had been televised across Europe and on a couple of other continents as well; but only in Lilla Jordsö, still encased in national mourning, did the TV cameras follow the funeral procession to the royal cemetery. This time the day was sunny but quite chilly; everyone was bundled up in coats and hats, and the triplets kept trying to huddle between their parents, shivering in the cold they were unaccustomed to.

The children had never been to a funeral before and were all restless, forcing their parents to issue periodic admonishments. Kristina and Anna-Kristina both broke into noisy sobs as the coffin was lowered into the ground, making the young ones even more fidgety and uneasy; the smallest ones began to cry in response. Only Anders, Gabriella's young son, stood staring at his mother's casket, looking a little bewildered; Leslie could look at him only once before her heart broke and she had to hide her face in Christian's shoulder. The sight of the little boy had branded itself on her memory for good, she was sure.

Back at the castle, Kristina went into seclusion and Anna-Kristina hid herself in her mother's rooms, worrying Kai, who for the first time joined Christian and Leslie in their suite with all three of the Oskarssons' daughters. "She'll make herself sick," he said, pacing the floor while his girls and the triplets played together across the room. "She's so emotional she frightens me sometimes. Everything to her is such an event."

"It's the way she is, Kai," Christian said sympathetically. "I understand how it can overwhelm you now and then. Anna-Kristina takes much more after her mother than she does Arnulf." He smiled wryly. "I always thought his daughters were born in the wrong order. Stina should have been the youngest and Magga the firstborn." Kai chuckled a little, and Christian arose and rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Don't let it worry you so much. This is only their natural way of grieving. I think the best thing you can do for Stina is to offer her all the emotional support you possibly can. She's not strong that way and she needs someone who's able to withstand the storms she goes through."

Kai nodded, tossing Leslie an apologetic glance before remarking, "She's emotional even for a woman, I've thought."

Christian laughed. "Perhaps so, but I think part of that is also due to the fact that women are allowed to release their emotions to much more of an extent than men are. She takes advantage of that sometimes, but this time I think she's entitled. Allow her this, let her run to Kristina when she feels she needs to, and be there for her when she needs you; I promise you, she'll be grateful."

"Well enough—thank you, Christian." Kai shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed the prince a little sheepishly. "Married two years and I'm still not fully accustomed to all her moods. My mother once asked if perhaps she was bipolar, but she tends to read major diseases into the smallest symptoms, so I discounted it."

"She's just openly emotional," Christian assured him, amused. "If you can be her bedrock, she'll come through it just fine; it'll take time, that's all."

"If I might ask...what of you?" Kai queried, a little hesitantly, peering at Leslie who had been sitting on the bed for a while, going through the clothing she had brought with her from Fantasy Island. "I know Carl Johan arranged that press conference for you and your wife, but it seems to me it's a little cruel to throw you into it alone."

"We won't be, actually. Carl Johan and Anna-Laura will accompany us," Christian said. "But we're necessarily the focus, because we're the only witnesses to Briella's death."

Kai nodded. "I knew Leslie was deeply disturbed the other night at the family viewing. In any case, I hope it's not a great ordeal for you." He returned Christian's smile of thanks, then glanced at his girls. "If you like, Annika and Erika can remain here to look after the triplets while you're explaining things to the media. Your girls seem to be having a fine time playing with Natalia; why interrupt them?"

"We appreciate that, Kai, thank you," Christian said, and Kai smiled once more and left after a quick word to Annika, his oldest. Christian turned to Leslie then, watching her study assorted outfits, before rounding the bed and sliding one hand across her shoulders. "So, my Rose, are you having trouble deciding?"

"I don't even know why I have to change," Leslie muttered. "You don't."

"Then don't change, if you prefer not to," he said, settling down on the bed behind her and kneading her shoulders in slow, soothing motions. "Don't get so worked up. It's only a matter of presenting the truth as we saw it take place. Tabloids will make of it what they will, but their only objective is to shock for the purpose of selling papers. What they say is meaningless, Leslie, you need to remember that."

She turned his words over in her head, recalling past run-ins with gossip columns and those who wrote them; then she turned to hug him. "You know, it makes me wish Myeko were in charge of this thing. She's the only entertainment reporter I've ever totally trusted."

Christian laughed softly and cuddled her close. "Ah, now you begin to understand my mindset with respect to the media." That got him the giggle he'd hoped for, and he tilted her head back and kissed her. "Remember, my darling, I was there—I saw what you saw, at least until you fainted. After that, it's entirely up to me. So if you must pity someone, pity me, for having to describe everything you missed." He winked.

She gave him a squeeze and rested her head on his shoulder; they were silent for a moment before he observed, "By the way, this is strictly for the _jordisk_ media, so it's advisable that you use our language." Her head came up sharply and he smiled reassuringly. "Remember, we'll be with you. Your _jordiska_ isn't as bad as you think it is. If you need a word, say it to me in English and I'll give you the _jordisk_ word for it, all right?"

So resolved and as ready as they could be, they met Carl Johan and Anna-Laura in the room where the royal family normally held its press conferences, standing in the adjacent preparation room waiting to go in. Carl Johan had delegated the direction of the entire thing to the castle secretary, admitting he was tired of having to lay down ground rules and dictate who could ask what questions and for how long.

"Where's everyone else?" Leslie wondered, too distracted to realize how absurd the question really was; she had been hovering within inches of Christian ever since they'd walked into the room.

"They'll watch in the TV room," said Anna-Laura. "I don't think it will include Anna-Kristina or her mother, but I believe the rest will be gathered there, and someone will be watching the children. Just tell the truth as you saw things, Leslie, until it's time for Christian to take over. If you need help, we'll help you."

"You're too nice to me," Leslie mumbled, missing the gently exasperated, but fond, looks her husband and his siblings exchanged. She wrapped both arms around her abdomen in a protective gesture that served to remind her, with its usual jolt, that there was a baby in there now. _Poor little thing, to begin carving your way into this family under such horrible and sad circumstances..._

The castle secretary came in from the pressroom and murmured something to Carl Johan, who nodded and advised that there were five minutes left. Leslie's head came up and she whipped it around her. "Where's the bathroom?" Her torso jerked even as she said it.

"Here," Christian said, grabbing her arm and half towing her across the room, throwing open a door. She stumbled inside, slammed it shut and lost everything she had eaten since getting up that morning. She had to rinse out her mouth three times before she was ready to come out; Christian leaned against the wall beside the door, arms folded over his chest, and launched himself off it when she emerged. "Well?"

"I'm okay," she said, though Christian's expression told her he wasn't convinced, and took his hand. "Let's...let's just get this over with."

He brought her back across the room without another word; Anna-Laura gave him a scolding look. "Be patient with her, _ungstebror_. She's terrified."

"That's not why I'm upset," Christian said. "It's the media and the kilo or two of flesh they always want from us. Having to relive that madness—isn't it enough that Leslie's been having nightmares and feeling guilty for no reason? Now she has to tell strangers the story, and so do I, and you know what I think about the whole concept."

"Christian, Leslie may still have some excuse for being upset by this intrusion, but you've lived with this all your life, and you know how to handle it," Carl Johan said.

"Of course I do—why do you think I'm venting now?" Christian shot back, then reconsidered momentarily. "Of course, if that barracuda Hilda Ödegård is among the attendees today, all bets are off, you understand."

"Oh, Christian," Anna-Laura began.

Carl Johan, chuckling, shook his head. "The cause would be sufficient, if you ask me. Oh—I think it's time. Remember, Leslie, poker face."

"And use _jordiska,"_ Christian added with a wink, just as the secretary poked her head through the door and beckoned at them.

Christian had advised her of a little trick he had sometimes employed in his youth when he needed to use English for an international press conference: "Memorize the first sentence of what you want to say, so that you can get into the rhythm of speaking in another language. From that point, it's usually easier." Leslie sat now scrolling through the line in her head, making sure she had it down cold before daring to scope out the room to see how big the gathering was. It was full; in fact, some people were standing in the back. Two TV cameras were trained on them; since the late nineties, Lilla Jordsö's original lone TV network had been joined by a competitor, which today was in collaboration with all the other national media outlets. A young man in a sweatshirt and jeans came by and clipped miniature microphones to their collars, while reporters stood in front of each camera speaking to their respective audiences.

Someone stood up in the front row. Leslie thought she recognized the brassy-blonde woman with the makeup that no longer quite hid the encroachment of age; sure enough, she was right. "Hilda Ödegård here, Your Highness, with _Today's Latest in Entertainment._ It's my understanding you witnessed Queen Gabriella's death. Will you please explain to us why it had to happen at all?"

Christian, whose seated stance had gone rigid the second the woman had arisen, glowered at her; Leslie simply focused on her as an anchor to grasp while she told her story. She got her first memorized line out and was surprised to realize that Christian had been right about its effect; from then on she was able to explain, hesitating frequently as she searched for the proper descriptive word or other part of speech, turning to Christian about once every third or fourth sentence and getting a prompt in _jordiska_ from him as he had promised. Finally she concluded in that language, "And that's when I fainted, so I don't know any more from that point."

Ödegård looked a bit disappointed, or perhaps that was disbelief on her features, as if she were sure Leslie was withholding information. But she nodded and turned to Christian, whose expression was just perceptibly forbidding. "Could you give us the rest of the story, Your Highness?"

Leslie gripped his hand, as much to comfort herself as to give him support, while he drew in a breath and seemed to brace himself. "It was as Leslie said—I tried to stop Briella from moving. She had gone mad, I think as a result of the Callaghan-LiSciola cure. Her last words were 'let me go'...she simply screamed them out, she wanted only to get away and didn't seem to see what danger she was in. Her killer had someone clinging to his ankles, and I thought perhaps it would buy me enough time to bring Briella down so that she was less of a target. But she eluded me, and her killer brought the gun around and sh—" His voice broke and he closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose before raising his head and glaring with tear-glazed eyes at Ödegård. _"Shot_ her," he spat.

Low murmurs rose in the room, and some of the media representatives nearest Ödegård threw her looks of revulsion or disgust. For once, Leslie thought, Ödegård herself appeared to be a bit rattled.

"Your Highness...please accept our deepest condolences," said one of the television reporters then, taking advantage of Ödegård's lowered guard while he had the chance. "All of Lilla Jordsö grieves with the royal family."

Christian swallowed hard enough for the mike clipped at his throat to pick up its sound before raising his eyes and murmuring, "Thank you." He gathered himself, glanced at Leslie, then looked more closely and took the time to brush away the tear she hadn't even realized had spilled onto one cheek. She smiled faintly and squeezed his hand.

It seemed to give him the wherewithal to continue; he turned back and pointedly ignored Ödegård, addressing the room at large. "I think Leslie had grabbed my ankle from behind—it must have been her. When Briella was shot, she...she fell almost directly in front of me, and I tried to go to her, but Leslie still had my ankle and I had to kick her hand away. I kept begging Briella to stay awake, to stay with us. I was still trying to find her pulse when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye...just as I was turning my head, I heard another shot, and I was in time to see Rogan lying atop Briella's murderer, to see the man's body leap once with the sound of the shot and then go still.

"Rogan came to me then and asked about Briella, and we both tried to find a pulse, but she...she..." Again he had to pull himself together. "She was gone. I had my moment of pure shock, so it was Rogan who noticed that Leslie had fainted. With...with all the carnage that had already occurred, I had no idea whether she was dead or alive. All I could do was stare. By the time someone tapped my shoulder and brought me around, Rogan had checked on Leslie and was trying to tell me she, at least, still had a pulse. I think it was then that the law had arrived. They confirmed that Briella was gone. There were three others also—the Swiss man Leslie mentioned, the killer himself—I believe his gun went off when Rogan took him down, and he evidently shot himself to death—and Marina LiSciola."

That got a visible reaction from Carl Johan and Anna-Laura, who stared at each other around Christian and Leslie. "You didn't tell us that," Carl Johan muttered to Christian, so low that only Christian and Leslie overheard him.

"Later," Christian whispered, and forced himself to focus on their audience again. "As I said, that was when the Fantasy Island constabulary arrived. It seems the crew that Hotaia Sese had taken hostage had grown panicked by all the screaming and shooting, and they radioed the island begging for help. The constables had emergency personnel with them, and they took care of the...the dead. At first they seemed to think Leslie was among that number, but even if she had been, I wouldn't have let them touch her. I gathered her up myself and I wouldn't let her go. It took her more than three hours to awaken, and the more time that passed, the more certain I was that she had somehow been injured by that one stray bullet Sese fired and she too was going to die. But thank fate, she did wake up."

Silence held sway for a full five seconds; then someone asked a question, and Christian had to explain the full particulars of Sese's entire plot to destroy the Callaghan-LiSciola experiment, as he had done with Leslie once she awoke. When he had finally answered the last question, his voice was slightly hoarse, and he seemed relieved to stop talking.

"How did Her Majesty hear about this...this _cure_ in the first place?" Hilda Ödegård said into the second short silence that followed. She seemed to have recovered her usual annoying, intrusive style. "If it was that risky..."

This time it was Carl Johan who spoke, in a frigid voice. "Let me make it completely clear to you and everyone in this room that Leslie was not to blame in any way whatsoever for Briella's participation in the cure's trial. Her father had a database of known amakarna customers, taken from lists of patrons of both Rogan Callaghan's business and that of Count LiSciola. He told Leslie to send Briella and her sisters a message letting them know about the cure, but to carefully enumerate the risks and to tell them not to volunteer for the trial. It was solely Briella's decision to participate."

"Really?" said Ödegård skeptically. "Did she actually describe the risks?"

"We have proof," snarled Christian, the last of his patience gone and his temper in shreds. "We're releasing the text of the actual message and the full contents of a letter Briella left behind, because none of you would let us get away with merely the reassurance that Leslie wasn't responsible; you'd demand some kind of evidence to prove it. You go too far, Ms. Ödegård, and it's my strong suggestion that you quit now, while you're ahead, before you get yourself into more trouble than you can talk your way out of." He fell back in his chair and closed his eyes again, lowering his head. A couple of people standing beside Ödegård muttered to her and physically pushed her back into her chair.

Anna-Laura, sitting next to Leslie, saw her beginning to lose her composure and rested a hand on her shoulder, catching the castle secretary's eye and making a discreet little slashing motion. The secretary immediately turned to the media representatives. "That will conclude this press conference; if there are any other questions, you'll direct them to me, if you please." The sweatshirted young man half leaped onto the raised floor where the family sat and hastily collected the mini-mikes, after which Carl Johan nudged Christian to his feet, Leslie and Anna-Laura arose, and they left the room.

The moment the door was closed, Christian exploded. "How _dare_ she! That unspeakable...that insufferable..." He shot his brother one fractionally apologetic glance, then proceeded to rant in _jordiska_, cursing and calling Hilda Ödegård epithets crude enough to make his sister wince. "She's trying to sully not only Briella's name, but my wife's as well, and I simply won't have it! This time I mean to do something! Something should have been done many years ago, but over and over, one or another of you told me, no, let it be, don't allow her to win by getting to you that way. But the garbage media won't rid us of her, so _I'll_ do it!"

"Let him," Leslie said, knowing his unusual fury was a result of lack of sleep and noticing both Anna-Laura and Carl Johan gearing up to try to rein him in. "That miserable hag is obviously Lilla Jordsö's answer to Barbara Verdon, without the rehabilitation. I think Christian should be allowed to vent his spleen—publicly if he wants—and I'll back him up. She's horrible. I've seen her at enough press conferences here to know. It's all because the media have sunk to a point where only the dirt is considered newsworthy anymore."

Anna-Laura groaned in exasperation. "In the name of fate, you two! How many times do I have to reiterate that Hilda Ödegård isn't worth the effort? Christian, I know how much you loathe her, but why you allow her to bother you that much—even in private—is beyond me. Now you've brainwashed Leslie into egging you on."

Christian cursed again and rounded on her, making her step back a pace or two in surprise. "The very least you could have done was terminate her access to us—and that should have been done as far back as the early 80s when she was just rising in the business and making her odious name for herself! Perhaps we have lower standards as well, if we continue to allow her to not only attend press conferences here but to take over and ask all the questions!" He turned away, breathing hard, shaking his head. "If it weren't for the coronation and the investiture, I'd insist we go home now, but don't you fear, _äldresyster_, I'll do my duty as required by constitutional law. But I can promise you that if I see Hilda Ödegård at any gathering of media that focuses on us, I'll make certain she's bodily ejected!"

"Leave it, Anna-Laura," Carl Johan broke in a bit forcefully when she geared up to protest again. "Just leave it. I've been thinking something should be done myself for some time now. I'll put in an ultimatum—I have that power now. As for you, _ungstebror_, sit down and pull yourself together, or I promise you, one day you'll drop dead from your own sheer rage. There are some things you can't shield Leslie or your children from, no matter how insane the lengths you go to in the effort." He caught Christian's rebellious eye and pointed at a chair, his voice issuing a thunderous command that would have stunned his father and older brother as much as it did his younger brother and his sister. _"SIT DOWN!"_

Leslie tugged at Christian's arm. "Come on, my love, sit here with me, please."

Christian let himself fall into a chair and turned into Leslie's embrace when she hugged him; Anna-Laura peered at Carl Johan, impressed. "Well done, _äldrebror."_

Carl Johan grunted. "If this is an example of what I'll have to go through as Prince Regent, let me go on the record as saying I may not survive to Matti's majority." But there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it, and Anna-Laura burst into surprised laughter; Leslie giggled, and even Christian managed a grudging smile.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § - November 9, 2008

The coronation of young King Matteus II of Lilla Jordsö went without a hitch, after all the children were shown not only the video footage of the crownings of Arnulf I, Arnulf II and Gabriella, but the film footage, painstakingly transferred to DVD, of the coronation of King Lukas VI. Christian, whose mood had been dark ever since their press conference, clearly found it fascinating, and stared avidly at the grandfather he could barely remember in much the same way Leslie had watched Christian himself in the 1962 coronation of his late father. Anna-Laura gave him a copy of this DVD once it was over, and he thanked her in a soft, apologetic tone.

"If it helps at all, Christian, I've seen to it that Hilda Ödegård is officially banned from all further press conferences and any other events in which we appear in the media," Carl Johan said. "I hope that eases your mind."

Christian smiled, looking wan. "I really have to apologize to everyone. I've been a beast all week long, but my only excuse is that I simply can't sleep, and you know what the lack of sleep will do to a person."

"Are my nightmares still waking you up, my love?" asked Leslie anxiously.

"No, because I'm already wide awake when you have them. It's not you, my Rose. I..." He hung his head and closed his eyes. "Leslie, will you come with me? I think it's time I see Dr. Salomonsson. Carl Johan, I know the investiture is in less than two hours—I'll do my utmost to be on my best behavior throughout, but I'm desperate for sleep."

"What keeps you awake? Is it Briella?" Carl Johan asked.

"Yes...I keep thinking I should have tried harder to get her out of that madman's way, to keep her from becoming one of his victims. I keep seeing the scene over and over and over again. It doesn't stop replaying in my mind."

Carl Johan advised, "Go ahead and see the doctor; and Leslie, he's right, you should go with him. You don't look much better than Christian does. If you two can get some sort of tranquilizer or sleep aid from him to last you until you return home and you can work through this with Mr. Roarke, then by all means, do it."

Dr. Salomonsson listened to their respective tales of woe, nodding now and then in understanding. "I'll issue something for each of you. His Highness is correct, you both need sleep—healing sleep." He addressed Leslie. "I have something strong enough that you should be able to get through one dreamless night at least, but if I were you I would speak with your father—and not just in regard to something to help you sleep."

"I understand, thank you, doctor," said Leslie.

Christian slipped an arm around her as they made their way back to their suite. "I hope this works. I can hardly keep up the polite façade much longer. It's all I can do not to snap at the children and everyone else, and even you sometimes." He sighed. "If I do, my Rose, know in advance, it's my condition."

"We'll talk to Father as soon as it's feasible when we get home," Leslie promised him. "I'm pretty sick of the nightmares myself. Briella would probably scoff at us both and tell us to stop being so melodramatic."

"She would at that," Christian agreed, grinning. "That was our Briella. Only Magga is less patient with human foibles and shortcomings." They chuckled and made their way to their suite to freshen up and get ready for Carl Johan's investiture as Prince Regent.

The ceremony was actually somewhat longer than the coronation; the children complained at having to stand still and quiet again, but their parents settled them down and the investiture went off well. It too was televised, as a rare historical event, and Anna-Laura promised to get DVDs made of both the investiture and Matti's coronation and send Christian and Leslie a copy as soon as they were ready.

"Do we have to bow to Uncle Carl Johan now every time we see him?" Susanna wanted to know, on the way back to their suite.

"No, _lillan min,_ that's what the people and the staff here must do, but they had to do that anyway. He's still a prince—his title is Prince Regent, and that means he's not really the king, but doing the king's duties until the king himself is ready," Christian explained. "To you, he'll still just be Uncle Carl Johan."

"Daddy," Karina said, tugging at his sleeve, "can we see the video when you were a little boy again? Please? You were funny."

Leslie broke into giggles, and Christian peered at his daughter with a half grin before retorting, "Is that so? Your mother thought so too, I notice." He grinned at Leslie. "All right, I don't see why not. It might keep you three occupied till bedtime, so I can take that tranquilizer and, I hope to fate, finally get some sleep."

§ § §

Michiko had gone back to the suite Adriana shared with her husband and their two-year-old son, well aware that Cat wished she were anywhere but with them, but determined to talk to her stepdaughter. Cat was actually going so far as to constantly interrupt their conversation to wheedle Adriana to play with her, and Michiko wanted to scream.

Just as she was about to explode, Adriana's exasperation reached its limit. "Catalina, I want to speak with _Madi_, and you are being very impolite. I think _Papi_ spoiled you and failed to teach you any manners—even my Staffan can behave better than that!"

"Tell her to leave, and we can play, then," Cat said rudely.

"I should tell _you_ to leave first," Adriana snapped. "I told you I want to talk to _Madi_. I don't get much opportunity to do that. Go and play with Staffan!"

Cat looked deeply wounded, but she slunk away all the same; Adriana blew out her breath and turned to Michiko. "I am so sorry, _Madi_. I knew you were having trouble with her, but I didn't think she would be so terrible to you."

Michiko was too weary to hold back anymore. "I really believe she hates me. I had no idea she could be like this, for this long." She studied the younger woman, who leaned forward with all her attention on her stepmother. "Adriana, tell me if you think this is a bad idea..." She glanced after Cat, ascertained that she was well out of earshot, and proceeded to fill Adriana in on the temptation to let Cat go back to Arcolos with her brothers and what Christian and Leslie had said about the idea.

Adriana listened with wide eyes, then settled back when Michiko had finished and considered it. "You will miss her very much, _Madi,"_ she said, then grinned impishly. "Except, of course, for this terrible attitude she is displaying."

Michiko snickered, reluctant to admit it but knowing Adriana was right, at least to some extent. "The question here is, do you think I should do it?"

Adriana met her gaze and bit her lip, then drew in a breath. "I must be honest with you, _Madi_. I knew you must go to your true home after _Papi_ died. I also knew that Cat has never known any other home but Arcolos, and it would cause much trouble for you. She has spent all this time since _Papi_ died treating you so terribly?" When Michiko nodded, Adriana winced. "To have your own child dislike you so...why does she do this?"

"She's angry with me for making her leave Arcolos, but she also has the absurd idea that I killed your father somehow. I have no idea where she got it. The things that child comes up with. I suppose my question is whether you think Paolono and Lindalia will mind having Cat with them for an indefinite period."

"Oh, I can speak with her about _Papi_, make no mistake," said Adriana, casting a glance in the direction Cat had gone, her eyes flashing. "That is simply hideous, to say such a thing. When I tell Paolono and Lindalia about this, I think they will understand. Come with me, _Madi_, I think we should pay them a visit right now."

They were about to leave when Roald noticed them. "Going somewhere?"

"Merely to speak with my brother," Adriana assured him. "If my little sister does something to anger you, don't hesitate to give her due punishment." Roald grinned at that, gave his mother-in-law a quick salute that made Michiko grin, and resettled himself in front of a soccer match. Adriana ushered Michiko out ahead of her, then marched along the corridor, purpose in every rapid step.

Lindalia answered their knock, curtsied deeply to Michiko, and urged them inside; Paolono looked up from some papers he had been reading on the bed where he sat with an open briefcase beside him. "Well, _Madi_ and Adriana...what brings you here?" he asked in Arcolosian, beaming at them.

"Our idiot of a little sister," said Adriana, all outraged indignation. "You must hear the entire story." She proceeded to spill it all out, without giving Michiko a chance to do much except confirm several key points, and was a bit breathless when she finished.

Paolono and Lindalia looked at each other; he laid the papers aside and arose to take his wife's hands. "So then...what do you think of this? If we take my brat of a little sister home with us, where she thinks she should be, what then will happen, do you think?"

"She is so certain that life in the royal palace will be all fun and games, yes?" said Lindalia thoughtfully. "Well, she is in school now—and it will not be so easy as it has been for her before your dear father passed away." She smiled. "And as a princess, she has much more to learn than simply scholastic pursuits."

"I think it's time we became rather strict with her," Paolono remarked thoughtfully, then seemed to catch himself and turn to Michiko. "Not that you have not been so, _Madi_, but this is a drastic move on your part, and I think we should make it worth the while. I cannot promise you that Catalina will come to her senses soon; she's quite the stubborn little minx, I've seen." He grinned. "But then, so are we."

"So you'll be taking her back to Arcolos, then," said Michiko, blinking.

"Of course you will miss her, dearest Majesty," Lindalia said sympathetically. "But one day I am certain she will wish to return home to you—and when that day comes, she will appreciate you far more. We will see to it that she does. No child should take his or her mother for granted."

"You see there, _Madi,"_ Adriana said with satisfaction, "Cat will think she is getting exactly what she wants...until she gets there and finds that everything has changed, in so many more ways than she knows. And you will have your chance to make your home and your new life, so that when the day is right, you are ready to reunite."

Michiko felt her eyes stinging at the prospect of leaving her daughter with her stepson, but at the same time a bud of hope had sprung up somewhere inside her. She hugged all three of them. "I'm so lucky to have children like you. I know you'll do a good job teaching Cat the lesson she needs to learn. Keep me informed, please?"

"Of course, _Madi_, of course," Paolono promised. "Send Catalina to us when you are ready—tomorrow morning if you wish—and we will set the plan in motion."

§ § § - November 11, 2008

The early-morning sky showed no sign whatsoever of sunrise when Christian, Leslie and the triplets gathered in the entry hall for the first of several flights back to Fantasy Island. The children seemed to be alert enough, all three still eating the _frykostfikkor, _or "breakfast pockets", that Christian had always so enjoyed; but their parents were heavy-lidded and still trying to shake themselves awake enough to move under their own steam. Leslie nibbled at a _frykostfikka_ of her own, not particularly hungry but recognizing the need for something in the face of the long day ahead.

As servants began to load the waiting castle limo with Michiko's and the Enstads' luggage, Margareta slipped inside carrying a suitcase of her own and set it down with the other outgoing bags. "Thank fate, I caught you before you left," she said with a deep sigh. "I should have spent the night here, but I wanted one last chance to tell Gudrun goodbye."

"Hm?" murmured a drowsy Christian, blinking enough to take in the sight of his niece. "Where are you going then, charity trip?"

"No, I'm returning to Fantasy Island with you," said Margareta. "I'm going to step up in Briella's place for the experiment."

Leslie stared at her in shock; Christian, predictably, jolted wide awake. "What!?"

"You heard me," Margareta said patiently. "I won't listen if you argue with me. If Briella had the right to participate in this testing, then so do I. And I don't want my sister's death to have been in complete vain." She turned to Leslie. "Your cousin's experiment is a perfectly noble undertaking, and he deserves to have the chance to find out if that counteractive serum of his will truly work. Why let a gang of crooks led by a vicious drug dealer stop us from moving forward with something that can only benefit us?"

Christian sighed heavily and shook his head. "I suppose it's ridiculous for me to argue at this late a date, in light of everything that's happened...but I should mention something that neither Leslie nor anyone else could have anticipated. Consider this, Magga: Briella was growing frightened of everything around her by the end. After the kidnapping, she lost all rationality and was convinced she would die. I don't know if she was hallucinating, but I do know this much: we Enstads seem prone to peculiar mental visions under adverse influences. You may recall that some years back I suffered from atropine poisoning, which is said to cause about half its victims to have hallucinations. I turned out to be part of that half, and in view of that and of what happened to Briella, I think it's best if you know about it."

Magga nodded. "Thank you for that, Uncle Christian, that makes me better informed. But I'm still going to do this."

"So be it," Christian muttered in resignation. "You'd better eat something before we leave, it'll be only a few more minutes."

Michiko appeared as Margareta was hurrying down the great entry toward the dining room. "Good morning. Are we ready to leave?"

"Just about; they're loading the bags as we speak," Leslie said. "If you want some breakfast, you'd better get it now."

"I can't eat while it's still dark out," said Michiko, grimacing. "I'll wait till we've gotten to New York City. I can't see how on earth you two can eat anything at this hour."

"We prefer _frykostfikkor_ to airplane food," Christian said through a yawn, and Michiko laughed. "You had your chance. Forgive me, I think I'm going to be sleeping this flight away. At least you two have each other to talk to."

Margareta came back bearing yet another _frykostfikka_ and a couple of plums. "Well, I'm ready. Oh...good morning, Queen Michiko."

"Hello, Margareta," Michiko said quizzically.

"She's coming back with us," Leslie said. "She intends to take Briella's place in Rogan's test. Far be it from us to stop her."

Michiko shook her head a little. "That takes guts, especially after what happened the first time around. I wish you success, Margareta."

Margareta smiled. "I hope for it. I just want to do this for my sister. And I think I want to spit in the face of the man who killed her."

"You can't," said Christian sleepily, his accent thickening. "He's dead."

Margareta snorted. "Oh, really, Uncle Christian." She caught his grin and rolled her eyes, then noticed Leslie snickering. "I can't believe you laugh at him, Aunt Leslie..." Then she let out her own reluctant laughter. "Why don't we just get in the car?"

They had been forced to take a series of commercial flights back home, but they were flying first class and the expense was being borne by the castle treasury; so they had decided to make the best of it. Christian settled himself as comfortably as he could in his seat, asked for a blanket, and peered at Leslie with his eyelids at half-mast. "Forgive me, my Rose. I just can't stay awake." He grinned drowsily. "That's a welcome change."

She grinned at him. "I bet it is. If you're not awake by the time we're approaching New York, I'll bring you back around. Have a good sleep." She kissed him, and he stroked a finger down her cheek and smiled at her before settling his head against the little airplane pillow and closing his eyes.

"So are you two sleeping all right, then?" Michiko asked shortly after their flight had taken off a moment or two later. "You look a little more rested."

"Other than a case of lingering grogginess in the morning," Leslie murmured with a yawn, "it's working perfectly. Dr. Salomonsson did tell us we should talk to Father when we get home, though. I think it'd do us a lot of good, because I don't really want to be on something too long, considering I'm pregnant."

Michiko nodded, then noticed a movement behind her and grinned. "I think it works even better on Christian than on you. Look, he's out like a blown fuse."

Leslie peered at her already slumbering husband and laughed softly. "He's lost even more sleep than I have, so I shouldn't be surprised. He was so snappish all week, and any little thing could set him off, and we all knew it was because he couldn't sleep at night. It's getting better, but I'd rather let him sleep. I wasn't doing a whole lot better because of those damn nightmares." She twisted half onto her side in the seat and gazed at Michiko with a wistful expression. "I keep seeing the same thing—Briella screaming to be let go and sidestepping everybody, and Christian yelling at her in the attempt to get Sese's attention off her...and worst of all, that gunshot and the look of sheer shock on her face before she fell. I wake up then, but it's too late. It's traumatic."

"And you'd wake up Christian," Michiko guessed.

"He said I never did that because he was already awake anyway. So I might get a little sleep here and there, but I'd have at least two nightmares every night and sometimes three. Thank goodness, whatever Dr. Salomonsson gave me at the castle has killed the dreams for the last two nights. But I really have to talk to Father."

"Well, I hope you make it through till we get home." Michiko blew out a sigh. "I wish my house were ready. I really think my mother's sorry I'm coming home."

Leslie giggled. "Did you tell her Cat's gone back to Arcolos?"

"Yes, she knows. She didn't think it was such a great idea, but I explained the rationale behind it, and she gave in. Not that she liked it, but she conceded that Cat's my daughter and it's up to me." She noticed Leslie yawn again and smiled. "I'm keeping you awake. Go ahead and try to get some sleep, and I'll read awhile."

"We'll talk about Cat later," Leslie promised. "Thanks, Michiko."

"That's what friends are for," said Michiko with a smile, which Leslie returned before she lifted the armrest on the seat between herself and Christian, then tugged his blanket off in order to fully unfold it. He stirred as she did so and his eyes fluttered partly open.

_"Ge det tillbaka,"_ he muttered, only barely conscious.

"We're sharing, my love," she told him. "Make some room."

_"Oh...i den tagen..."_ he murmured and closed his eyes. She settled her head on his chest, draped the blanket across them both and let herself drift off.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § – November 12, 2008

On the island, they had slept out the last of the effects of the sleeping aids, and were alert enough to greet Roarke when he came to meet them. "I suspect," Roarke remarked as natives came past them carrying luggage, "that you two will need a lengthy debriefing. I watched the funeral service on television; you seem to have grown proficient in _jordiska_, Leslie. But your composure was lacking, I'm afraid."

She made a face at his teasing smile. "Little wonder, wouldn't you say?"

"I would indeed," Roarke said and turned his attention to Michiko. "Welcome back. If I may ask, where is Catalina?"

"With her brothers in Arcolos." She explained the plan she and her stepchildren had come up with. "Cat's world would have changed in any case, whether Errico were still alive or not, because she would have started school full-time in Arcolos as well as here, and there would also have been the equivalent of those Royal Comportment classes I've heard Christian talk about occasionally. So we'll see what happens. Meantime, I can concentrate on getting myself back together, without worrying about her, since I know she's in good hands with Paolono and Lindalia."

"I see," said Roarke. "And Your Highness..." He bowed to Margareta. "Welcome."

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke. I'm sure you know why I'm here," Margareta said.

"I can certainly guess," Roarke said, with another, fainter smile.

"Has Rogan decided what to do yet?" Christian asked, with an eye on the triplets pelting around the clearing burning off stored-up energy.

Roarke ushered them all along to waiting vehicles. "He's kept a low profile. You may be aware that the waiting period has been over for a week now, and the four surviving test participants have all continued to thrive without taking amakarna. Every additional day is further confirmation of the success of the cure. But as I pointed out, they are but four; we will need another larger group to conduct a proper test."

"That's why I'm here," Margareta said, catching his attention. "I'm doing this in memory of my sister."

Roarke regarded her as if he had some doubt; then he seemed to return to the moment. "In any case, we have twenty-one additional volunteers on their way to the island for the second trial; several have already arrived. You may certainly join them, Princess Margareta, but you should be aware that before this trial begins, all of you in the group will be apprised once again of the risks you're taking."

"As it should be," said Margareta with a nod. "But I mean to go through with it in any case. I want to believe that I can overcome the additional drawback of possible hallucinatory experiences of the kind Uncle Christian says my sister had."

"We may have to keep you in the hospital in that case," Christian noted, only half jokingly. "How are Rogan's original four subjects doing, other than being able to skip the daily dose of amakarna?"

"Our guest from the Netherlands reported some hallucinatory episodes, but the others seem to have suffered no ill effects." Roarke gestured toward the cars. "I suggest we return to my study and discuss a few other things you may want to know about."

"Did you find out anything else about Giancarlo's and the count's deaths?" asked Leslie as Christian called the triplets back to them.

"Yes, but let's wait until we have settled you in a bit," Roarke said.

It was another fifteen minutes before Michiko had gone to her mother's apartment and Margareta, unable to sleep on the flights, had been taken to Christian and Leslie's house to nap in their guest suite. In Roarke's study, they took seats around the tea table, and he saw to it that they had something to drink before drawing in a breath. "I looked into the deaths of the count and his son-in-law," he began. "It turned out there was one survivor of the conflagration at the LiSciola villa—the family cook, Fiorenza. She reported that there had been a great deal of tension between the count and Giancarlo from the day the latter arrived back from Rome. Giancarlo was upset when he discovered that Marina and Lucan had disappeared; the count put him off initially by saying she had taken the child to visit friends in another part of the country. But the longer she was absent, the less Giancarlo was inclined to believe the count, despite that the serving staff at the villa corroborated his story in the likely hope of avoiding confrontations."

"He must've gotten the truth out of the count somehow, though," Leslie said.

"Indeed," Roarke said, his voice heavy. "Fiorenza explained that Giancarlo had grown suspicious of Marina's complete lack of contact with either him or her father while she was gone, and began to demand the truth. The count withstood him at first, but Giancarlo was apparently not above using more brutal means to get what he wanted; and at last, in Fiorenza's words, he beat the truth out of the count—quite literally."

"The news article said they had 'come to blows'," Christian recalled. "Would that have been that incident?"

"No," said Roarke. "At that time the count said merely that Marina was abroad, without saying where; he simply claimed she had taken the child on a much-deserved vacation. That seemed to satisfy Giancarlo for a few more days...until he somehow discovered the secret underground room where Marina had been attempting to break down amakarna into its constituent properties. He went into a rage the like of which Fiorenza claimed the staff had never seen before, and it seems that was enough to terrify most of them into quitting then and there. Fiorenza herself said she would have gone with them, but Giancarlo issued threats that frightened her into remaining.

"The count was in the village on business while all this was happening, but it seems he met up with his own staff, returning to their homes there, while he was conducting that business, and found out what had happened. He rushed back to the villa only to find it in flames. Fiorenza had hurried out the kitchen door and hidden herself in the greenhouse, which the count noted was untouched—and when he found her there, he told her to save herself, get back to the village as quickly as her feet would take her, before setting fire to the greenhouse in the attempt to destroy Giancarlo's livelihood. Apparently he forgot, or simply didn't care, that he was destroying his own in the process. Fiorenza took the count's advice and departed the premises immediately, but as she was leaving, she heard shouts, which in the aftermath she assumed were the count's and Giancarlo's voices raised in altercation. I believe it was then that the two men had the physical fight mentioned in the news article you saw."

"They must have been so involved that they couldn't be bothered to stop even when the fire caught them," Christian mused, shaking his head slowly. "What a horrific way to die." He looked up. "Not that I'm necessarily grieving, you understand—not after what that family did to mine. But I certainly wouldn't have wished such a painful and nightmarish death on anyone, not even the count."

Roarke nodded understanding. "Between the count's and Giancarlo's deaths in the villa fire and Marina's death at the hands of Hotaia Sese, that leaves young Lucan an orphan. In fact," he added with a sigh so heavy as to reveal soul-deep weariness, "it means that Lucan is the last remaining member on earth of the entire LiSciola clan."

"What's going to happen to him?" Leslie asked.

"I contacted the Ognissanti family," Roarke said, "but they can't, or won't, take him, for reasons they refused to enumerate. I believe there may have been some manner of rift between the two families for years, even though the count had a long friendship with Giancarlo's father. I think the Ognissantis disapproved of his marriage to Marina. In any case, they wanted nothing to do with the child. So Rogan and Julie have offered to take him into their home."

"That's quite generous of them," Christian said, "considering what a handful Rory can be, with his own abilities." He smiled a little. "But at least Lucan will grow up in a warm and loving home." He let a few beats pass, and Roarke waited quietly, sensing there was more; he watched Christian kiss the top of Leslie's head before meeting his gaze again. "I don't wish to trouble you further, Mr. Roarke," the prince said slowly, "but you may or may not be aware that both Leslie and I have had a great deal of trouble sleeping."

"Yes," Roarke said, without explaining how he knew. "What, if anything, have you done in an attempt to countermand that?"

"We went to the doctor at the castle, and he gave us some sleep aids," Leslie said. "I think they were more effective on Christian than me, only because I was at least getting _some_ sleep—after all, I kept waking up from nightmares. Christian could barely sleep at all, and it was taking a toll on him; he'd lose his temper at almost any provocation."

Roarke nodded. "Your nightmares...I presume they revolve around the murder of Queen Gabriella?" Christian flinched at the word _murder_, but remained still otherwise.

She nodded. "It's like my brain seized on that moment when Sese shot her, and keeps replaying it on a loop till it wakes me up." She peered at Roarke. "You don't suppose Michael might be behind this," she said facetiously.

"You know as well as I do that your birth father was dispatched to Mephistopheles' realm once and for all, many years ago, and has no power over you at all, my child," Roarke admonished her gently. "It's only your mind's attempt to deal with the traumatic events you witnessed. I am not sure I can, or even should, help you in this instance; it's best to let this work itself out naturally." He lifted a hand when both she and Christian sat up as if to protest. "A potion or something similar would give you temporary relief only, Leslie. When its effects wore off, you would be right back to having those nightmares. The better cure is to talk it out—with Christian especially, perhaps with other members of his family, with your friends. As you work through your grief over Gabriella, the nightmares will lose their effect, and you will eventually stop having them. It takes time, I'm afraid, but it does work."

"Then what of me?" Christian wanted to know. "I lie awake replaying those same moments over and over in my mind. I know on an intellectual level that I couldn't have done anything for Briella, but something in my heart refuses to accept it; so I lie there trying to find some way I could have saved her life."

Roarke regarded him with quiet sympathy and noted, "That's normal; we all do that in the wake of tragic events such as this one. We always second-guess ourselves in highly stressful situations. You and Leslie have both said that Gabriella wasn't in her right mind by the end, and things happen faster than we perceive them later on, so that we trick ourselves into believing we were capable of doing more than we did. You did whatever you could, Christian, so you have no reason to torment yourself in such a fashion. Forgive yourself for your own limitations; you will be much more at peace."

"Superheroes are only fantasies, my love," Leslie said softly.

"Quite so," Roarke agreed with a smile.

Christian sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head droop against Leslie's for a moment or two. "Yes, yes, I know that. Again, intellectually, I understand and accept what you're telling me. I'm afraid my heart, or at least my subconscious, will take longer to be convinced. I suppose we're merely looking for a quick fix, if I have the idiom right."

"That's a fantasy too," Leslie said. "I hate to say it, but it is." She released a sigh and managed a smile for Roarke. "Well, at least we were able to talk it out and get some good advice and some answers."

"Good," said Roarke with a warm smile. "My suggestion now is that you two go home and readjust to the local time zone, and do something lighthearted to try to divert yourselves. Watch a few humorous films, play games with the children, plan a backyard picnic, or perhaps a neighborhood one that you can invite your friends and their children to partake in. You might even consider names for my latest grandchild-to-be."

Christian and Leslie broke into laughter and thanked him, and a few minutes later they were on their way home with the triplets. At their own house, they released the children to their own pursuits; Susanna and Karina settled down in the living room with dolls, while Tobias at first insisted on reenacting a computer-animated movie he'd recently seen with Kevin Knight, using his Transformers robot toys. But he made enough noise doing it that his parents had to shoo him out to the backyard to keep from disturbing Margareta; only when he had gone outside did they realize the quiet was almost tangible. "Do you hear that?" Leslie murmured, glancing at the girls before turning to her husband.

"I hear very little, other than Tobias in the backyard and the girls in here," Christian said low, rubbing one ear as if irritated when Susanna provided the voice of her baby doll's imaginary crying. "But I understand what you mean. Our ears were bombarded with the noise of flying for so long that now the silence has...almost a _pressure_ to it."

She nodded. "That's what it feels like to me too. I feel as if we have to fill that silence somehow. Otherwise I just start thinking."

"And perhaps thinking is our enemy at the moment, is that what you're saying?" he asked softly, wrapping an arm around her and snugging her close.

"Maybe," she murmured through a sigh, and he smiled faintly and squeezed her. They sat for a while, absently watching their daughters at play.

Then, unexpectedly, Margareta emerged from the hallway leading to the guest suite, making them both sit up. _"Hallå då, _Magga," Christian greeted his niece. "We expected you to sleep much longer than that."

"I expected the same thing," Margareta admitted, "but I started thinking about your cousin's serum, Aunt Leslie. Did he learn anything from the failed initial experiment?"

"It seems to have worked so far on all four of the surviving participants, according to Father," Leslie told her, "and they're well out of the fifteen-day test run that he and Rogan set up. I think you should talk to the lady from the Netherlands, though. It's my understanding that she was reporting hallucinations, and if you're prone to that the way Christian thinks you might be, you should go into this knowing everything you might expect to happen once Rogan gives you your three doses."

Margareta nodded. "I'll do that. When does Rogan want to start the new trial?"

"I don't think all the members of the new group are here yet, so it might be a few more days. You can visit our Dutch guest tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel rested enough." Leslie regarded her thoughtfully. "What'd you tell your wife about this? What did she say when she found out you wanted to do it?"

"Was she as upset with you as I was with your sister?" Christian put in with a wry grin that made his wife and his niece both laugh.

"Not really," Margareta said with a shrug, settling into a chair and drawing her knees up so that her feet hung off the edge of the cushion. She wrapped both arms around her legs and regarded her aunt and uncle. "That isn't to say she's not worried, but she knows how I feel about what Briella wanted to do and that I'd be happy to get off the damned spice myself." She suddenly straightened her spine, as if something had just occurred to her. "Is it true that Count LiSciola is dead?"

"It's true, yes," Leslie said, nodding. "And Marina died in the same...the same shooting spree that Briella did, so that leaves her little son orphaned. He'll be living with Rogan and Julie. Why do you ask?"

"Because it seems a little odd," Margareta said slowly. "For so much of all our lives, he was there, holding that sword of Damocles over everyone's heads. Now it's as if a monopoly has finally been erased...and if that husband of Marina's is dead too, maybe that will wipe out the entire black-lightning industry." She chewed on her lips in rumination. "If I'm right, that would make Rogan the only grower of amakarna left on earth, and since he wants to eradicate all dependence on the spice..."

"He's not driving himself completely out of business," said Leslie with a smile. "It's only the trade in amakarna he's trying to eliminate. He'll be fine."

"Should this work," Christian said then, "both you and Briella will make history. You and Stina now are the only members of the family still on the spice, and if you and the other people in this second trial all find yourselves freed of the need for it, _jordiska_ history texts will certainly take note."

"In other words, I'll be a historical footnote for something besides being the first openly lesbian princess on earth," said Margareta dryly.

Christian's voice was severe. "Margareta Hjördis Benita, that's enough of that. You are what you are, and if you make history through it, it's because you're at the forefront of a time when homosexual people are finally gaining acceptance in society at large. You might consider giving others credit for seeing more than merely that aspect of you."

Margareta shrugged, but there was a somewhat sheepish look on her face. "All right, I'm sorry, Uncle Christian. But sometimes I've wondered if I'm not just trying to find myself a niche in this world."

"You and everyone else," said Christian, absently stroking his hand along Leslie's arm. "Sometimes we have to do drastic things to find that niche. If this is yours, then take solace in the fact that you're doing something for the greater good." He smiled at his niece. "Perhaps that will allow you to sleep a little better, do you think?"

"As long as _you_ sleep better for knowing that you've made a lot of difference in our lives, and our outlook on them," Margareta told him, unfolding herself from the chair and coming over to kiss his cheek. "I know Briella would've said that if she could, so just think of it as my passing on her message." She smiled, then excused herself with a yawn and padded back to the guest suite, leaving Christian and Leslie smiling too.

* * *

><p><em>Christian is in for quite a surprise in the next story, so make sure to keep an eye out!<em>


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